


Deep Within The Mystery of Your Eyes (I Am Home At Last)

by patdkitten



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Blind Louis, Harry trains seeing eye dogs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 15:51:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7763839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patdkitten/pseuds/patdkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a world where you discover your soulmate after skin contact and finding your world exploding in colour. Louis has been blind his entire life. He makes do quite well, thank you very much, and he's glad that he doesn't have to see colours fade in and out of his world. Harry trains disability dogs, and, during a chance meeting with Louis at a local market, he discovers that Louis' his soulmate. He comes up with a wild scheme - train his current dog to be the perfect dog for Louis - in order to keep Louis in his life, and maybe convince him they're soulmates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deep Within The Mystery of Your Eyes (I Am Home At Last)

**Author's Note:**

> So, I did some minor research into disability dogs specifically for blind people. I'm fairly certain that I handwaved quite a bit, and if it bothers people, let me know because this is definitely a concept that I want to write again in the future!
> 
> \- Title from Humilitas by Lesiem  
> \- Shout out to my group chat and to S, who puts up with way more headdesking than anyone should have to and who has the patience of a saint with me
> 
> \- There was way, way too much listening to instrumental music toward the end of writing this. Way too much.

There's a loud snoring going on in his living room. It's the loud, grating sound that greets Louis as he opens his eyes to his oldest and closest friend, the darkness that has been with him his entire life. He should do something about that, he thinks. The obnoxious snoring, that is, not the blindness. He pushes himself up with a groan, making his way from his bedroom out.

Louis wonders what other people's lives are like. Normal people, that is: the people who don't have to shuffle blindly about their flats, ghosting their fingers along walls and furniture, and feeling like they have to keep relearning their spaces after every visit from friends and family. God, though, Louis has some asshole friends who think it's hilarious to rearrange his flat after wild parties, even though he's not actually sure how they manage it with being wasted off their collective arses. He really should make a habit of banning them from his flat when they're drunk, and actually stick to that plan for once. That, or figure out ways to make it painfully, bluntly obvious to them that being blind isn't the hilarious punchline his dickish friends seem to think it is. Ways that don't involve bruises that Louis can't see but can only hope get his point across that it's cruel to force a blind person to figure out their space again.

Or just dump all the shit friends and make new friends in general. That might be the safest plan, the one that involves both less and more work on his part. Less work that he wouldn't have to re-learn his flat every morning after he and his friends get drunk, especially when he's hungover, and more work in that he doesn't exactly lead a life that makes meeting new people easy.

His questing fingers find the couch in its usual place – he knows it's the usual place because it's the exact right number of steps from the doorway leading from the hall and his feeling about tells him it's facing the way it should – and shortly they find the loudly, obnoxiously snoring occupant. Well, the occupant's broad shoulder, at any rate, which leads to the curve of a strong neck and a well trimmed beard.

He smirks, fingers closing over Liam's nose, causing the sleeping man to jerk awake with a yelp. “Serves you right for snoring like a freight train. Think a herd of elephants could storm on through my flat and I wouldn't have heard them.”

“I was not,” Liam defends himself, and Louis can hear the man sitting up. Judging by the rustling, Louis is pretty sure that Liam slept in the same clothes from yesterday. Without searching, he can't place if Liam had brought an overnight bag with him, is still not sure why his best mate spent the night, but it's not that terribly important. His fingers twitch in Liam's direction, in what he hopes is a threatening manner, and he feels Liam's broad hands envelop his and pull Louis comfortably in the space between Liam's knees. It makes him feel like maybe he wasn't as threatening as he thought he was, and it also means he can't figure out what facial expression Liam's got on his face as he adds, “Well, maybe I was. Did I wake you?”

Louis thinks there's a smile to the words, thinks he can hear the faintest hint of one, and wants to pull his hands away so he can find out for sure. Instead, though, Liam's hands feel grounding. They remind Louis that, for all his restlessness and frustration that come from not knowing the full extent of his world, he's not alone in the darkness. The current position does as well; with anyone else, it would look like an intimate position, but with them, it's just a way to ground Louis.

Louis doesn't need the help, would refuse if Liam made the offer to move in permanently, but there are times when he wishes that he had someone that could make him feel like he's not alone all the time. That someone would sit like Liam is right now, and hold Louis' hands like this, and they'd be in a position like this and have it be intimate. Not Liam, obviously; Liam's studying to be an EMT because he has a physical _need_ to help people, and Liam makes Louis feel weak.

Louis hates feeling weak. He's blind, not helpless. The thought makes him tug his hands away from Liam, although he gets the impression that Liam lets him. Which, _no_ , he's not allowed to do that. It feeds into feeling weak, and he can feel his face twisting into a scowl. Liam's hands move to Louis' hips and pats them in what is clearly meant to be a distracting fashion, meant to make him stop scowling. It doesn't work as well as Liam must think it does, but Louis' not interested in pointing that out right now.

“I thought I saw the colour blue the other day,” Liam says, giving Louis' hips one last pat before he pushes himself up and Louis loses the heat of Liam's broad body.

Louis scowls again, because Liam falls in love easier than anyone Louis has ever known and none of them have been Liam's soulmate. At least being blind means Louis doesn't have to view the world in the shades of grey other people do until they met The One - capital T, capital O – although he has heard stories of people losing the colour in their lives because a soulmate changed. His mum is one of those people, used to tell Louis constantly that she'd seen colour with his stepdad until it faded back into shades of grey as the divorce became so painfully eminent. With Dan, though, Jay Deakin's life is full of colour once more, and her phone calls with her firstborn son are full of the colour of her garden and the brightness of the nursery she's putting together for Louis' youngest siblings before they're born. Louis can't remember if he's ever heard his mum speak of his dad in such terms, wonders if his mum ever saw colour with the man.

He's never asked, because he doesn't want to know the answer. He doesn't know if he'd like knowing that his parents had never seen colour with each other and that it had faded with time and distance.

“I think your face is going to freeze like that,” Liam teases, voice moving away as he makes his way to the kitchen. Louis uses the sound to guide himself, feeling thankful that nothing's popped up in the night to make him stumble. He fumbles blindly – ha – for a moment before finding the counter and hops up.

“What are you even doing?” Louis asks, turning his head to better hear the other man's movements as he makes himself busy in Louis' kitchen. That's the fridge door opening with its faint unsuctioning sound, and. Is that his eggs Liam's pulling out? The _bastard_. “It's like, nearly noon. You better be making lunch. And by making lunch, I mean you better be making _me_ lunch.”

He receives only a clatter in response: Liam's pulled the frying pan out from its place in the cupboard. The bastard definitely pulled out Louis' eggs. He's the bloody _worst_. If Louis goes the route of getting rid of all his friends, maybe he'll start with Liam first. They've been friends since childhood; that's long enough, right?

“You better make me eggs too.” Louis shoots a glower in the direction of the noise Liam's making, hoping it's directed at Liam's face and not his back. It's happened before and even though they've been friends forever, it still makes Liam laugh because Liam is an arsehole of the highest caliber. “Also better replace them asap.”

Liam chuckles, clearly not bothered by the annoyance Louis is sending his way. “Was planning on it.”

Harry loves when he gets to pick up a new puppy to train as a disability dog. He's considered stepping away from the training aspect to just raise the puppies and not have to worry about the training portion of their education to being disability dogs. But then he'd miss out on being there when the disability dog goes to their new home. He might actually love that more: when someone who's blind gets a dog that will improve their quality of life. Regardless of age, he loves watching their faces light up with joy at the first tentative touches to the dog's soft fur and working vest and realising _this dog_ is _theirs_. _This dog_ will help them expand and explore their world. _This dog_ will bring them the freedom their lives had been lacking before then.

The new puppy, from his former pupil Paloma's second litter, is named Tinkerbell and he can't wait to start training her. She's already got Paloma's gentle and loving nature, and if she's anything like her father Outlaw, she'll be a fast, intelligent learner too. Not that he'd trained Outlaw; he'd been busy training another dog at the time, and it's all hearsay that Outlaw was a quick study. Either way, he'll find out soon enough how quick a study Paloma and Outlaw's daughter – the middle pup of a litter of five – really is.

“What colour is she anyway?” Harry picks her up, doing a check of her head to make sure that she follows the guidelines that are regulated upon. He spends a lot of time thankful that he's not blind, that he doesn't need a dog like the ones he trains, but he almost considers blind people the real lucky ones. They exist in a darkened world, not one that exists in shades of grey the way it does for people not lucky enough for soulmates.

“She's a lovely golden colour like her mum,” his friend Ed laughs, rubbing the puppy's ears. Ed's been seeing colours for longer than Harry's known him and Harry's known him since high school _at least_. But he's never seen Ed with anyone, and Ed always deflects the question, saying that he cares for someone and they care for him back, but they're not in his life at the current time. Ed doesn't raise or train guide dogs like Harry does. His job lies in taking care of the dogs the school they both work for decides to breed, as well as taking the puppies back in when they're ready to be passed on from raisers to trainers like Harry.

“Gums and tongue are pink and healthy, by the way,” Ed goes on, knowing that while Harry can see there's a difference in colouring – a difference in tones of grey, really – he can't actually tell what the difference is. The only things he can really do are make sure that everything feels the way it should. “Ears are clean, eyes are brown and clear, nose is cold and black. She's a healthy pup, Miss Tinkerbell.”

“Good to know,” Harry kisses the puppy's nose and puts on the working vest Tinkerbell will be wearing while he's training her. He's been told it's a dark blue with bright yellow “please don't pet me, I'm working” lettering on it; he's just got to take people's word for it. “I have to stop at the grocery store for a few things. I'll see how well she was accumulated to being out in public spaces.”

“Cheers,” Ed smiles as he follows Harry and his new puppy to the door, opening it for them. “Lemme know how it turns out, yeah?”

Harry's pleased to find out that whichever raiser had gotten Tinkerbell to this point had done a pretty decent job: Tinkerbell, once the training harness was on her, immediately snapsinto a professional stance. She doesn't tug against the harness; instead, she waits calmly and patiently for Harry to give her the proper commands, looking up at him curiously. He starts her off with a few basic commands she should already have known from the obedience training the raiser before him gave her, and the pair make their way through the store leisurely, picking up items as needed. He even sets a few on the floor, and instructs her on the commands she'll need for her future owner.

Like everything else he's seen from her since he'd picked her up, Tinkerbell performs better than Harry could imagine. She's definitely everything Paloma had been.

They finally make their way to the back of the store, where the milk and other refrigerated items are, and for a brief moment, Harry thinks they're alone. Thinks maybe he could show Tinkerbell how to delicately take cartons of eggs and other things from the dairy cases. But then he notices the young man glowering at the cheese in the case like it's insulted his mother _and_ kicked his dog.

He makes his way over, mindful of Tinkerbell, and leans conspiratorially toward the young man. “Did they tell you a cheesy joke?”

The young man snorts loudly, turning his head – but thankfully not the glower - toward Harry. Even in the shades of gray Harry views the world in, he can see the unseeing dullness to the man's eyes. So he's blind then. Okay. “Do you always use horrid, horrible food-based puns to pick up blokes in the market?”

The voice is light and airy, with the most delicious hints of rasp, sass, and snark. And okay, although Harry absolutely _has_ picked up blokes with absolutely shitty puns and worse pickup lines, he's never done it in a market before and this stranger really makes him want to start. Like really, _really_ want to start, first time for everything sort of thing. Harry has nothing against the stranger's disability, after all, and he's definitely attractive.

What Harry's saying is, whether or not the man was blind, if Harry were to wake up with this man in his bed, Harry's keeping him there for the rest of his _life_. It's been a while since Harry's gotten laid, since Harry's been in a relationship. He's not _dead_ , right, and, _god_ , this man is super attractive. Maybe even take home to mum, introduce to family, have loads of pretty little babies with.

Before he can say anything in response, though, the man turns back to glowering at the various cheeses, or at least in their direction. General direction. “Never mind, I don't want to hear that maybe you do, or you're doing it out of pity for me. I may be blind, but I have plenty of pride and if you _were_ trying to pick me up? I'm saying no on principle. Because I don't want to be someone's pity, shit pick up line bloke they picked up at the market.”

Harry doesn't know why he does it, but the sassy, cocky attitude makes him burst out laughing. It's even the big, honking loud laugh he's always being told by Nick is super annoying and gets on everyone's nerves. The man turns the glower in his direction this time before rolling his eyes and looking back at the cheese.

“You're mental, then, mate. I really escaped _that_ one. Good to know.”

“No, no,” Harry chuckles, glancing down at Tinkerbell. The puppy's begun to sniff curiously at the dairy case, although it doesn't look like she's considering jumping up to get a better sniff. “Sit, Tinkerbell.”

“Excuse me?” The man turns to Harry, eyebrows raising. With his ruffled hair, it makes him look like a rather agitated hedgehog and it takes Harry's entire self-control to not start laughing again. Or to just knock him to the floor. “My mate says I looked like a twink a few years ago, but I'd like to think that I matured to something a bit more manly.”

“No, sorry.” Harry raises a hand up defensively, even though the man can't see it. He also can't see the smile that crosses Harry's face and makes his dimples pop in that charming way people love. The dimples are one of Harry's best features, after all. “I train disability dogs, for sight impaired people like you, and the one I'm training right now is named Tinkerbell. I wasn't calling you a twink or anything like that. And so we're clear on it, if I had been trying to pick you up, it wouldn't have been because I pitied you.” He reaches a hand out, fingers lightly touching the stranger's wrist and.

There's a brief flash of colour in Harry's world, with the stranger's dull eyes being the only thing Harry can focus on: they're the most intense blue he's ever seen. It's also the only blue Harry's ever seen, but they're electric. The pop of colour goes away as quickly as it had come, shuttering Harry's world into greys once more.

It couldn't be. Right? Harry shakes himself, pulling his hand back like he'd been burned. “Sorry, I shouldn't have touched you. I'm Harry, by the way. Maybe I can help you find something, since you're glowering at the cheese?”

“Louis. And I gathered I was glowering at the cheese,” the stranger says, and the look he gives Harry makes him feel completely bare. Even though the man can't see. “My mate Liam brought me grocery shopping and I managed to get this far without him to get eggs, but.” He gestures toward the dairy case. “I went to grab where the eggs were the last time I was here, but they've rearranged everything.”

“That's terrible. How rude.” Harry casts about before finding a carton of eggs and checking to make sure none of them are cracked. “Do you have a preference for which kind of eggs you're buying?” He lets go of Tinkerbell's harness to take the Louis's hand and presses the carton into his hand.

Once more, there's the flash of colour. The electric blue of the Louis's eyes. This time, though, Harry can also see the man's thin lips are the softest pink he's ever seen. He finds himself wanting to lean in to see if they feel as soft as they look, but that would be weird. Even for Harry.

This time, though, the colours don't fade when Harry pulls his hand away, leaving Louis holding the carton of eggs. Oh god, Harry didn't think he'd find his soulmate in such an unlikely location as the dairy section of the market, and yet here he is.

And because his soulmate is blind, he'll never know. And Harry, hopeless romantic that he is, just _can't_ have that.

“Thanks for finding them for me.” Louis holds up the eggs like it's a cherished prize, and maybe for him, they are. “I should try to find my mate or something.”

Oh no. No. Now that Harry's found his soulmate, he's not about to let the man go so easily. Except he has no idea how to go about it. As Louis turns to go, Harry casts about for something to make him stay and his eyes land on Tinkerbell. A crazy idea begins to form in his head. After all, he's not training Tinkerbell for anyone in particular like he usually does, and if Louis wants a dog, why _not_ Paloma's gentle, super intelligent and quick thinking daughter?

“Hey, I don't know if you wanted to go that route, but I don't think Tinker here is pledged to anyone yet.” Harry says, hoping that he doesn't sound as desperate as he feels.

He's not sure it worked, because the look Louis gives him as the blind man turns back toward him is bewildered. “Can you just do that? Promise a dog to a blind stranger?”

“Well, not just any blind stranger, no.” Harry admits, chewing his lip. “You've got to fill out an application, and there's home visits to make sure you're the right fit for Tinker here specifically, or another disability dog being trained.”

If he's lucky, the person that'll be doing the home visits for Louis – if he agrees to apply - will be Nick, and Nick's always been open to listening to Harry's judge of character. And even though their meeting was so brief, Louis seems like a good guy. He'd be an excellent candidate for Tinkerbell. There's not a doubt in Harry's mind.

Louis' quiet for a bit, looking down at the eggs like he can see them. Harry's so focused on Louis's face – tan skin with just a hint of freckles, blue eyes, soft pink lips, ruffled brown hair – but he can see in his peripheral that the carton in the man's hands is a tan colour. He has no idea why his mind picks up on that when he's entirely focused on Louis, wishing Louis would say something. _Anything_.

Harry's about to burst out into a talk about how a guide dog like Tinkerbell would expand Louis' life, make it better for him, when Louis looks back up at him. Just like before, even though the dull blue eyes are unseeing, Harry feels like he's being looked at in a way he's never been looked at before. He feels bare, open.

“Alright, I'll apply. There's no fee or anything? I don't know a thing about the process.”

Harry smiles warmly, even though Louis can't see him, and comes over to him. “I'll help you fill it out, and see if I can get one of the best from our school to do the home visits for you.”

Louis is nervous. He's not entirely sure why; in the couple weeks since he'd filled out the application to get a disability dog, Harry's reassured him that he's got nothing to worry about. Harry's been over to Louis' flat a few times since their first meeting in the diary aisle of the grocery store, with Tinkerbell in tow, and the trainer has been nothing but positive about the whole thing.

Honestly, Louis isn't even sure Harry _has_ a negative outlook on _anything_. And it's... It's very weird to have someone like Harry around. He loves his friends, he does, even when they're arses rearranging his flat and causing him to bruise his shins on his furniture.

But Harry is something else entirely. Even though they're not close, because their friendship is purely on a professional level with Harry training the dog Louis _might_ get if he passes his home visits, Harry's just fitted himself into Louis' life perfectly. He treats Louis like a _person_ , not just a person who happens to have a disability that affects his life. And it's _consistent_.

The only people Louis knows that do that are his family, who know his struggles.

But still, Louis is nervous. He's gotten pretty attached to Tinkerbell, has pictured how his life would be improved with the dog in it. He doesn't want to have that come crashing down because something goes wrong on a home visit.

“Very nice out today,” Harry greets him as Louis opens the door to the trainer and dog the day of the first home inspection. Louis' unseeing hand fumbles a moment in the air, before his hand latches onto Harry's arm and follows it down to find Tinkerbell's ears for a good scratch. “We should go for lunch after your inspection. My treat.”

“To celebrate or to nurse my wounds if I fail the first test?”

“To celebrate.” Harry carefully guides Louis to the couch, sitting him down before there's a warm puppy weight in Louis' lap as Tinkerbell licks his cheek.

Louis scratches the dog's ears again, looking up when there's a knock at the door. He'd just started to calm down, in no small part because of Harry and Tinker's presence, but the nervousness of earlier comes back.

“You'll be fine.” Harry's voice is reassuring as the trainer makes his way to the front door to let the inspector in.

The inspection, just like Harry had predicted, goes smoothly. The inspector, a friend of Harry's by the name of Nick, had sat Louis down in the beginning and asked a series of questions that ranged from what Louis did for a living to his level of activity. Like most people when they found out, Nick had been surprised to find out that Louis was an artist that primarily worked with clay. But Harry had just reassured Nick that a blind person would be a better judge of how a person's face felt than someone who could see and that Louis' work was probably fantastic.

It made Louis want to touch Harry's face, trace the lines and angles his mental picture of the man provided and put it into clay. He wanted Harry to be his muse, wanted to map each and every part of Harry into clay. And that was leading into territory that he didn't think he'd get into, with anyone, much less someone who was more of an acquaintance than anything else.

It isn't that he frowns on the idea of hook-ups. His friends absolutely pull every time they go out, and Louis' pulled a few times himself. It's just that the lads he pulls don't seem to be interested in more than just one night stands, never mind being a muse for Louis' art. He can memorise their bodies just fine, but his fingers forget by the time he tries to put those features into clay.

Anyway, the inspection goes smoothly, and at the end of it, Nick claps his hand down firmly on Louis' shoulder. “I think you're a pretty good candidate for our program, and Miss Tinkerbell in particular. I'll turn in my notes, so we can get started on the paperwork.”

Louis sits down on the couch heavily, feeling numb with shock. It's not that he'd doubted that he'd succeed; Harry's faith in him refused to let doubt settle in that he wouldn't get a disability dog, even if it wasn't Tinkerbell in particular. He's so keyed to Tinkerbell at this point, though, that he's aware when she hops up on the couch next to him and leans her warm, furry body into his. It's almost like she had her own doubts and worries that he'd pass with such flying colours, and he pets her reassuringly as he hears Harry let Nick back out.

“You did it!” Harry cheers when he comes back, and Louis feels the other man's fingers tangle with his in Tinkerbell's soft fur. “I knew you would. Isn't that right, Tinker?”

Tinkerbell barks happily, her tail thumping against the couch.

Louis isn't sure why, thinks it might be because he's a step closer to having Tinkerbell being his own, but he feels at home. Much like he wants to Harry to be his muse, Louis finds himself wanting Harry to stay for good along with Tinkerbell. But he doesn't know how. He finds himself, for the first time in his life, wishing he weren't blind. Wishing that he could tell if Harry was his soulmate, wishing it wouldn't be weird to ask Harry to be his muse.

Wishing they were more than just acquaintances, friends with a common goal.

That maybe Harry is on the same page Louis is.

He tries not to think about it over their celebration lunch.

Harry wishes he knew how Louis feels about him, even after their short time together. He doesn't want to just break out the 'we're soulmates' speech; he's not even sure Louis would believe him. After all, as a blind man, Louis can't see the world in colour the way Harry is now. The colours are getting more vibrant, more bright, and show no sign of fading, no matter how far away from Louis Harry gets. They haven't even gone away since the last time they touched: when Harry held Louis' hand after Nick had confirmed that Louis was a perfect candidate to take Tinkerbell.

It's been a couple weeks since then, since they last held hands, although Harry and Tinkerbell have seen Louis a few times so Harry can walk Louis through what he needs to know to properly train Tinkerbell. He's running out of things to do that would keep him in Louis' life, especially once Tinker officially becomes Louis' dog. After all, it would be a bit weird for him to continually come to check on the dog, because it's the agency's job to keep track of how Louis' taking care of his dog, whether Louis _stays_ a good fit for Tinkerbell.

Harry's starting to beat himself up, knowing the clock is ticking down. Knowing his time is running out. That their time is limited. And then Louis surprises him out of the blue one day, while the blind man is busy shaping a face out of clay while Harry observes how Tinker interacts with Louis' art space.

“Do you believe in soulmates?”

Harry would like to say that he doesn't drop the mason jar glass in his hand, that he's made of much sterner stuff than that. But it falls to the ground, shattering into a million pieces and sending its contents – cucumber slices, mint, ice and water – every which way. Tinkerbell barks at the sound of smashing glass, cowering behind Louis' legs. Louis turns briefly toward the dog, one dirty hand digging into the dog's fluff to steady himself, before turning toward Harry, his facial expression confused and more than a little frightened.

“She's not supposed to react to sounds like that, is she? What happened?” Louis' voice quavers, and Harry feels instantly bad. It's not the artist's fault Harry's gone for him, not his fault that he doesn't know he's Harry's soulmate. That his words should have more power than his question normally would've merited, if he'd been anyone else. If Harry had been anyone else. “What was that shattering sound?”

“I dropped my glass, sorry,” Harry brushes it off, tries to pull himself together. He instinctively waves off Louis when the other man comes over, before he remembers that Louis can't see the action and curls his hand around the man's wrist. It's just in time too; their hands hover over a large jagged piece of glass. “I can clean it up. Don't want you cutting yourself over my mistake.”

Louis' eyes bore into Harry's, and even though there's only a dull sheen to the turquoise depths, Harry has the very distinct feeling the other man is staring straight into his soul nevertheless. “I'm blind, Harry. I'm not stupid.” His blind gaze drops, like he's trying to force himself to see the glass shards of the jar Harry'd dropped. “You reacted to what I said, didn't you? That's why you dropped your glass.”

Harry licks his lips, feeling his mouth suddenly go dry. “It was. I've been...” He trails off, clearing his throat after a heartbeat passes. “I've been trying to find a way to breach that subject with you.” The dull gaze snaps back up to Harry's face, and Harry wonders what it would be like if there was a light behind that stare instead of the dull sheen.

“For how long...?” Louis whispers, body leaning forward like he's worried it's a secret Harry isn't inclined to share with him. Oh, _God_ , maybe Harry's been wrong since the beginning, thinking they weren't on the same page, that Louis doesn't feel the same way about Harry that Harry feels about him. This is every secret Harry _wants_ to tell this man.

Harry waits another heartbeat, the fingers of his other hand curling around the man's other wrist. Holding his hands over the shattered remains of the broken glass. He doesn't want to let Louis go, doesn't want to think he might have to if Louis decides that Harry's just a lunatic. “Since I handed you the eggs, to be honest.”

Louis frowns, licking his lips and looking like he's processing as he turns his head away. Turns his head toward Tinkerbell, who is making her careful way over to them, sniffing at a far-flung cucumber slice. “That was when you suggested I apply for a disability dog.”

“For Tinkerbell, yeah.” Harry nods, even though he knows Louis won't see it. He slides his hands forward, entwining their fingers together. “I handed you the eggs and I... _Louis_ , the first thing I saw was how _blue_ your eyes are.”

Those blue eyes snap back up to his once more. There's a small smile playing across his thin lips, and like every day since they've met, Harry finds himself wanting to know if they're as soft as they look. “My eyes are blue?”

Harry laughs, feeling so _relieved_ that Louis' not pulling away. “Your eyes are the most gorgeous shade of blue I've ever seen.” He leans forward into Louis' space, breathing his air. They're a fraction of a space apart, crouched over a shattered mason jar, and if Harry were to lean in just an _inch_ more.... “And I've seen the _sky_.”

Louis looks like he wants to pull away, like he's having doubts. Like he can't believe that he's _Harry's_ soulmate. “Surely you were seeing colour before you touched me?”

Even though Louis can't see it, Harry shakes his head. “No. I touched you briefly when I said that if I'd been trying to pick you up, it wouldn't have been out of pity, and I just saw this pop of blue. I thought I was imagining it and then I handed you the eggs, and there it was again. These pops of colour. Your eyes were so blue, and your lips were this sweet, pale pink. And it wasn't going away.” One hand drops away from Louis' wrist, reaching out to rub Tinkerbell's ear as the dog comes to sit next to them. “If I was seeing colour all of a sudden, I knew you were my soulmate, you know? And I didn't know how I could tell you, so I just thought that maybe if you became eligible to get Tinker, I could still see you.”

“That sounds right pathetic.” Louis' voice is cynical and abrupt, but there's a smile curving his lips and Harry's struck once more with the urge to press his lips to Louis'. He leans in, lips ghosting over Harry's. It's not anything big, nothing ground moving or breaking. But it's the best thing in the world to Harry, and judging by the smile that widens on Louis' face as the blind man pulls back, it's the same for Louis. “I was starting to think I was weird for wanting you to be my muse.”

Harry laughs, Louis joining in after a moment. In that laughter, Harry can feel all his reservations about how Louis might feel for him breaking, can hear any reservations that Louis might've had breaking. “I wouldn't even know the first thing about being anyone's muse, sorry.”

“I'll show you, yeah?” Louis' smile melts into something sweet and secretive. Somehow, Harry absolutely understands why men go to war for smiles like that. Why Troy was destroyed for the love of Helen. “After you clean up that glass you broke.”

“I'll be quick as a bunny.”

Louis listens to the sounds Harry makes as he cleans up the glass he'd dropped as he finishes thumbing a curve on his current project. He's more than a little nervous about having Harry be his muse – finally getting to _touch_ Harry in something that isn't just a brief touching of hands – and he has no idea what to do with his hands besides finish his project.

It must help his mind because he doesn't immediately notice when Harry changes the music they'd been listening to – soft, relaxing classical instrumentals – to something that sounds far more ethereal in nature.

“I wasn't sure if this was too muse-y,” Harry says softly in Louis' ear as his hands rest lightly on the curve of Louis' hips. “After all, I don't know what a muse really does, besides sleep with their artist.”

Louis feels his lips curve up in a smile as he turns toward Harry, never leaving the comfort of his hands. They've just established they're on the same page; he might be nervous about what could, might, happen, but he doesn't want to pull away from whatever Harry wants to give him. “I don't think _all_ muses sleep with the artists they inspire, but.” He leans in, unseeing eyes closing as he brushes his lips against Harry's. It's not _entirely_ a perfect kiss, but they've got all the time in the world, he thinks. “Can I touch you?”

Harry doesn't respond, but Louis feels Harry's hands drop from his waist before Louis' hands are brought up to Harry's face, Harry's hands resting loosely around Louis' wrists. His thumb digs into a dimple and he bursts out laughing.

“You've got dimples!” He giggles, thumbs digging into the divots as his other fingers begin to map out the lines and angles of Harry's face. “What a travesty I didn't know that.”

“Would it have made a difference?” Harry's voice is low and husky. As if Louis just mapping out the lines of Harry's face is a turn on. The thought makes Louis swallow, taking a step closer.

“No. Maybe.” Louis whispers, a small part of his mind registering that his own voice is beginning to match Harry's tone. Low, husky, and dark. He swallows again, fingers moving from the lower planes of Harry's face upward. He can feel the soft, slow sweep of lashes against his thumb, can feel soft curls in the other man's hair. “What colours?”

The question sounds nonsensical out loud, but the other man seems to understand what he's asking. “My eyes are green and my hair's a dark brown. Brushes my shoulders.”

“I'll be the judge of that,” Louis says dismissively, but he can feel the curve of Harry's smile beneath his hands. He starts a mental running commentary after that: high forehead, hair pushed back, strong jawline. Feeling the shape, the lines and angles of Harry's face, makes Louis' fingers burn in a way they haven't in a very long time. He wants, badly, to immortalize the sharp yet delicate contrast his searching fingers can feel in Harry's features, but he also can't bring himself to pull away.

His fingers travel down the long line of Harry's neck, and he can't resist the urge to lean in. So he doesn't resist, stepping impossibly closer into Harry's space and leans in to press his lips against the soft skin he finds there. Above him, he can hear the soft groan that falls from Harry's lips at the action, and the sound makes Louis burn even more.

He continues down the lines of Harry's body, fingers blindly unbuttoning Harry's shirt and sliding that off before he reverently touches the bare skin of Harry's chest. It dawns on him a moment later that even though they might be soulmates and Harry hasn't pulled away from him, Harry might not actually be okay with Louis touching him so intimately.

He's just about to pull away, just about to ask, when there's a little tug at his own shirt.

“Can I take this off if you're going to get me naked?” Harry whispers in Louis' ear, causing him to shiver. “Because if you touching every inch of my skin is what being your muse is going to be like, I feel like I should get to touch every inch of _your_ skin first. If I could?”

Louis licks his lips, mouth going dry. Maybe this is a bit much for the same day as finding out Harry's his soulmate, maybe it's a bit much for whatever their relationship _is_. But he can't find a reason to say no, either, so he feels himself nod.

There's a moment, a heartbeat, where nothing happens. But before it can expand into worry that Harry's suddenly changed his mind, Louis feels his t-shirt get pulled off as reverently as he'd pushed off Harry's own shirt. It's followed up by butterfly gentle touches to the line of his throat, his shoulders, his arms.

Harry chuckles quietly as inquisitive fingers ghost around a nipple. Louis tries to pretend that he's not affected by that, but he's pretty sure neither of them are buying it. He's pretty sure that if Tinkerbell were paying attention, _she_ wouldn't be buying it. “God, you've got such an even tan. How do you even know when it's time to get out of the sun?”

“I've got a mate that goes with me. Helps with the cream and everything.” Louis reaches out and, after a moment's fumbling, pinches one of Harry's nipples. He grins at the ensuing yelp, pleased with himself. “Do you _really_ want to talk about other people right _now_?”

Harry hums, sounding like he's really considering it before Louis feels broad hands slide down the back of his trackies, cupping his arse and kneading a bit through the material of his briefs. “Nah, I'd rather talk about what's in front of me right now.” The hands squeeze once before pulling back out. Like before, there's a moment where Louis thinks that Harry's gotten second thoughts again, but before he can ask, Harry's pushing his trackies to the floor.

“ _God_ , I wish I had my camera.” Harry whispers as his hands return to cupping Louis' arse. “You're so gorgeous.”

“I didn't know you took pictures.” Louis slides his hands down Harry's chest and stomach, tracing the lines and planes of muscle tone and painting a picture in his head for later, before he's met by the top of Harry's jeans.

“I do.” Harry's hands pull away as Louis tries to unbuckle the belt he finds by touch, and shortly Louis has help getting Harry's own jeans off. “Maybe we could be each other's muse.”

“I'd like that.” Louis leans up to kiss Harry blindly, pressing their bodies together. He knows that they should move to the floor before they're too caught up in what they're doing, and before he can say anything, Harry's picking him up. And _oh_. _Oh_.

“What can't you do?” Louis asks, laughing as he wraps his arms around Harry's neck. They don't go far, maybe a couple steps to the side before Harry lays him down on the ground and settles on top of him.

“Sorry, didn't think you wanted to be standing anymore and if we laid down there, there was the chance I missed a shard of glass or we hit your workspace.” Harry says as he tilts Louis' chin up to kiss him slowly, deeply. “Wouldn't be very sexy.”

“Beg to differ,” Louis whispers against Harry's lips, temporarily distracted by the hand sliding down to cup him through his briefs. “Could be very sexy. You'd have to shower after.”

Harry chuckles huskily in his ear, hand palming him slowly as Harry starts kissing his neck. “How about next time?”

If Harry was expecting a proper response from Louis to the question, Louis isn't given much of a chance to respond. It really doesn't bother Louis in the slightest.

“Do you ever think about how easy this all is?” The question is soft, not nearly enough to have stirred Harry out of his post-sex doze. But it does, and he tilts his head up to where Louis' propped up against the wall. He's got one hand in Tinkerbell's fur, the other tracing circles in the palm of the hand closest to him. They've been a couple for three months, ever since that first day in Louis' studio when Harry admitted they were soulmates, and Louis still can't bring himself to not have physical contact with Harry in some way.

Harry doesn't mind in the slightest.

They're currently in Louis' studio; they always seem to end up in it, to the point Harry convinced Louis to just put a mattress in the corner so they didn't always end up on the cold floor. It's usually where he and Tinkerbell sprawl out when Louis' working, both keeping an eye on the blind man, albeit for very different reasons. Harry really did train Tinker well.

He rolls over, kissing Louis' bare thigh. From his vantage point, he can see Louis' spent cock take a bit of interest in the action, thinks he might see just how much of an interest its really got a bit later. But for now, he pushes himself up to kiss Louis with a smile.

“I like that it's so easy.” He admits, rubbing Louis' hip soothingly. The other man's dull eyes – still as electric blue as ever – flicker over to him, and although Louis' face is perfectly straight, Harry can tell that a smile is threatening to break the surface. “We fight just like any other couple, so it's not been _all_ fun and games. But I like that it's easy. We're perfect.”

“You're a sucker for perfect.” The smile that's threatening to break across Louis' face manages to break the surface, but just barely. One of the things Harry loves about him is that he can't stop smiling at Harry, even when he thinks Harry's being ridiculous.

“I'm a sucker for soulmates.” Harry points out brightly, sitting up fully and tugging Louis into his lap. He settles his hands on Louis' bare arse, kneading the muscle. His own cock takes an interest in the position, and a quick glance down says Louis' is also taking an interest. “After all, I've already proven _we're_ soulmates with those pretty blue eyes of yours.”

“Ridiculous.” Louis rolls said pretty blue eyes, but the smile that's been threatening completely breaks the surface. His teeth flash white against the tan of his skin, and it makes Harry lean up to kiss him softly.

“Absolutely ridiculous,” Harry agrees amiably against Louis' mouth, hands shifting. The fingers of one hand slide between Louis' arse cheeks, brushing against Louis' entrance and causing Louis to inhale sharply. He's still wet from earlier, easily taking a searching finger. “Think you could go another round?”

“You are going to be the death of me.” Louis sounds both exasperated and desperate, a perfect combination as far as Harry's concerned.

Harry hums, adding a second finger carefully. Louis might need a bit more lube, and Harry should go in search of another condom if they're going to have a round two. When they'd first gotten together, Louis'd started keeping a box of condoms in his studio as well as his bedroom – the two places they kept shagging – but they'd used the last one earlier, and it's far too early in the relationship to contemplate going without. The only downside about the thought is he'd have to move Louis off his lap again.

“You're thinking too loudly,” Louis groans heavily in Harry's ear, hips twitching as he tries to stay still. He brings a hand up, fingers splaying across Harry's face as Louis tries to gauge the other man's expression. “Don't do that. I can't read your expression like other people.”

“I was thinking I'm going to have to move you.” Even though he knows that Louis can't see it, Harry turns his face more into Louis' palm and smiles against Louis' skin. Although he's not looking, he knows that Louis can feel the movement, especially when Louis' fingers drum against his forehead. “We need another condom if we're going another round, and I'll have to pull my fingers back out.”

Louis groans again, fingers sliding across Harry's face and up into his hair. “As tempting as that all is, I don't want to let you up.” He curls his fingers in, tilting Harry's head to one side and kissing his neck. “I don't like when I can't touch you.”

“You've got Tinkerbell.” Harry can't help but tease, especially when he glances up to see the exasperated look that crosses Louis' face. He knows that there's going to be an exasperated noise to rival that expression in the near future. “I know, I know. You don't view Tink the same way you view me.”

“I don't.” Louis moves off Harry's lap with an equally exasperated noise, just like Harry had predicted, flopping onto his side on the mattress. As if aware she's being discussed, the disability dog mirrors Louis' posture, tail thumping against the mattress as she presses her nose to Louis'. Harry's rarely seen the dogs he's trained after they move to their new homes and new owners, but he wonders if they're as in tune to their owners, and their owners' needs, as Tinkerbell is to Louis and Louis' needs.

He knows that the dogs are taken care; he's never heard of any of the dogs he's trained being removed from their homes by the agency he works for. But he's really glad that he gets to see the bond the dog he trained has with its new owner when it comes to Tinkerbell and Louis.

“You're staring.” Louis doesn't even look in Harry's direction, focused as he is on rubbing Tinkerbell's ears. The dog is in sheer bliss, if the fact she's licking Louis' face is any indication.

Harry chuckles, reaching over to pat Louis' flank. Sometimes, he's not even sure how Louis knows when he's looking at him, but he thinks it might have to do with how Louis adapts to the world around him. “I am, but if you could see my view, I don't think you or anyone could blame me. My soulmate and his dog are gorgeous.”

Louis makes a non-committal sound, attention now fully on his dog. If Harry didn't know better, he'd think that Louis had definitely just dismissed his existence. He chuckles again, this time to himself, and pats Louis' flank again as he pushes himself up. He'll get that condom and then Louis' attention will be focused on him once again.

The days are getting cooler. Louis can feel the chill in the air whenever he takes Tinkerbell out for walks, with or without Harry at his elbow. Even though they're approaching the six month mark of their relationship, longer if he factors in the time they'd been friends before Harry had told him they were soulmates, having Harry around has been happening less and less lately.

Louis tries to tell himself it doesn't bother him. After all, Harry's gotten the next puppy to train for another blind person, and Tinker hasn't taken lightly to Uni's presence whenever the puppy comes close to Louis. Harry had been a bit worried about that when it had started, saying that Tinkerbell had never had issues with other dogs in the past. If she had, she'd never have been a disability dog. The only saving grace is that Tinker hasn't bitten the puppy.

Louis' mostly convinced himself that Tinkerbell is only jealous of Uni taking up all of Harry's attention. After all, even though he tries to tell himself he's not bothered by Harry being around less and less, he definitely misses his boyfriend.

He considers, more than once, to call Harry up and just ask him if their relationship has just run its course. But he always winds up talking himself out of it. He remembers how his mum was when the colours started fading from her world with his stepdad. He can't see the colours that Harry says are there, but he can't even begin to imagine what it would feel like if they'd started to fade for him.

He wonders if the colours are fading for Harry, and he's just too nice to say so. That sounds like something Harry would do.

It's on his mind when November rolls into December, and he's looking at his next birthday. He doesn't necessarily _want_ to be alone on his birthday and Christmas, but he also doesn't want to be in a relationship that feels like he's the only one still invested.

And then comes the phone call that he's been dreading. He hadn't seen Harry in a week besides Facetime calls when Harry calls him out of the blue with the feared, “Hey, we need to talk. Can I come over?”

Louis worries it's bad news, worries that it's officially the end he's been dreading, but he says yes regardless. The word sits heavily in his belly as soon as it's out of his mouth, making him feel ill. Distantly, he hears Harry say, “Great, I'll be over shortly,” before hanging up.

His fingers dig into the back of the sofa, thankful that he can't see his own reflection right now. He certainly feels pathetic, and judging by the way Tinkerbell leans into his leg, he must look the part too. He's glad Liam's not over, being underfoot. He knows that Liam spent less time over as Harry began to spend more time over, and they just seemed to switch off once Harry started to spend less time. He also knows that Liam would probably take Louis out to get plastered if the talk Harry wants to have is The Talk.

He doesn't want to get plastered if he and Harry are done. He just wants to lay on his bed and cry his eyes out into Tinkerbell's fur.

Louis might be getting ahead of himself. He takes a deep breath, pushing away from the couch and makes his slow, careful way to his studio. It might _not_ be a bad conversation that Harry wants to have, and Louis is probably making himself upset over absolutely nothing.

He needs to do something with his hands.

His hands are wrist deep in clay, although he's not sure yet what he's sculpting, when he hears the soft snick of a door opening and closing and Harry's footsteps entering the flat. Tinkerbell woofs softly with the hint of a growl from where she's settled on the mattress in the corner, and it's answered with a friendly woof from Uni at the door.

“Hey, you.” Harry's voice is warm and loving, and Louis can feel some more of his doubt fading in that sound. If this were a talk about them not being together anymore, Harry wouldn't be warm and loving, right?

“Hi.” Louis continues to work, ears tuned to the click that signifies that Harry's unhooked the leash from Uni's working vest. Tuned to the sound of Harry's approaching footsteps and the soft and gentle touch of Harry's broad hands at Louis' waist.

“So I wanted to talk to you about something.” There's a pause, like Harry's taking in what Louis' up to, before the man continues. “Could you turn around, please? I don't want to talk to the back of your head.”

Louis pushes at some clay with his thumb before turning around in Harry's arms. “Alright. You wanted to talk?” Although his doubt is starting to fade, he can still hear it lurking in the shadows of his voice. “It's nothing anything bad, right? You've been gone a lot lately.”

There's another pause, longer than before and Louis just barely manages to keep himself from squirming. He can feel Harry's gaze on his face, and there's incredulously shock in his voice when Harry finally answers.

“Did you think I was coming over to break up with you?” Spoken out loud like that, hearing the shock, confusion and actual hurt in Harry's voice, makes Louis feel incredibly guilty that the thought had even crossed his mind once, nevermind the countless times it had. “Is that what you've been thinking?” There's a third pause, like Harry's seeing Louis' artwork in a new light. “Is that why you were working when I got in?”

“I've been seeing less and less of you lately.” Louis' voice is small and guilty. He absolutely hates how he sounds, suddenly hates that the thought had wormed its way into his mind and poisoned him this way. “I thought maybe that I wasn't your soulmate anymore, and you were being too nice to me to tell me the colours were fading for you.”

“The colours were fading for me?” Harry repeats quietly, clearly confused. “Why would you think that?”

“It happened to my mum with my stepdad.” Louis worries his lower lip before sighing. “So I thought maybe it had happened to you too. I wouldn't know because I'm...” He trails off, one hand gesturing toward his face.

“No. _No_. God no.” Harry cups Louis' face, kissing him softly. Kissing him like he thinks the action will pull the poison of such awful thoughts out of Louis' soul. “I was busy doing something for you. For us.” He rests his forehead against Louis'. “I guess that I got so caught up in making everything perfect for you that I didn't even think that I was neglecting you.”

Even though he can't see him, Louis still looks up at Harry. “You were doing something for me? What?”

One of Harry's hands falls from Louis' cheek, followed by the sound of keys jangling. The other hand falls away, taking one of Louis' hands with it. Something cold and jagged is pressed into the palm of Louis' hand, making his fingers curl around it instinctively. Based on the size and shape of the object, combined with the previous sounds of keys jangling, he thinks it might be...

“Is this a key?” Louis focuses on it, turning it over and over in his hands as his fingers map out each tooth and groove on the key. It's capped by something rubber, which he assumes is a cover to distinguish it from others. “What's it a key for?”

“A house.” Harry's voice is quiet, almost reverent, and definitely hopeful. “Nothing fancy or large, but it's got a couple large rooms. I was thinking we could turn one of them into a studio like you've got here?”

That's. That's absolutely the polar opposite of what Louis had been worried about, so much so that it dispels every single doubt Louis'd had about how this conversation was going to go. “ _Harry_. Did you buy me a _house_ for my birthday?”

Harry laughs, the sound loud and bright. “I bought my boyfriend a house for Christmas, thank you very much.” He leans in, kissing Louis softly. “I was planning on _decorating_ it for you for your birthday, if you'll take it. And me.”

“You'll have to show me this house before I'll accept it.” Louis laughs himself, throwing his arms around Harry's neck in relief. “Is there a garden for Tink?”

“There is.” Harry kisses him again, and Louis can feel Harry's smile against his own lips. “I figured it out, what we could afford, and I was thinking I might take training disability dogs a bit further than I have. If you and Tinker have no complaints, obviously.”

“Why would we have complaints?” Louis questions, tilting his head. He can hear Uni's tags clinking as the puppy tries, for the hundredth time, to get Tinkerbell to love him. He's not sure if Tinkerbell is being won over, but he's hoping she is, especially if they're going to live under the same roof.

“Well, I was thinking about starting to breed disability dogs like Tink.” Harry hums, kissing him again. “Obviously not Tink because she's been spayed, but my friend Ed's the one who owns Tink's mum and I was thinking maybe getting one of her siblings?”

“Are you asking me?” Louis laughs against Harry's mouth, settling against him. “You bought me a house. I'm going to say yes.”

“Well, you're going to be the first blind person these future pups are going to meet. I want to be sure you're cool with it.” Harry's hands settle on Louis' hips, squeezing a bit. “Yeah?”

Louis laughs again, softly this time. “Yeah.”

Harry's hands squeeze again. “I love you, Lou. You know I always have.”

Louis smiles quietly. Even with the doubt he'd had earlier, he does know that. “I know. I love you too.”

Harry's hands squeeze a third time and Louis feels himself melt against the man. He's absolutely going to let Harry banish whatever awful thoughts of Harry leaving, and later, _later_ , he's going to have Harry show him their new house.


End file.
